Show Me What It's Like
by renegadetimelady
Summary: Spencer saves a young girl from certain death earlier in his career. Now she's back in his life again, working with the B.A.U. Spencer never thought he'd fall in love, let alone with a woman he saved, but is it really her that saves him?
1. Dancing with the Devil

(Author's Note: Thank you all for taking the time to read this. I really hope you do enjoy it. :) A few little things about my story: Gideon never leaves. I believe that Gideon should have never left the show and I miss Gideon's character so much, so Gideon stays the whole time. Also, JJ and Prentiss stay as well. Only in a perfect world would this always be. Haha. Anyway, enjoy.)

It all seemed so harmless. I was approaching the stairs to head to my class, wondering what we were going to be doing in Trigonometry, when I saw a group of about eight African-American boys standing at the side doors of my school, calling to me. It was raining, so I decided to let them in, despite the rules. Before I knew what happened, I was punched in the face. My body slammed to the ground, shocking me.

My friend Elias spun from around the corner and approached me.

"Shelly!" he shouted.

"No!" I screamed back at him, trying to warn him. But it was too late. A boy had grabbed him and held a gun to his head. I tried to get up and help him, but another boy grabbed me before I could get to Elias. I looked at his face. His teeth were gritted into a strange smile; almost a taunting smile. Terror flooded me as I looked at him. I turned away and looked at Elias.

"Kill him," the boy holding me said to the other boy.

"No!" I yelled. The gun went off and blood splattered through-out the air. It rained down on me, showering my face and body with Elias's blood. I gasped in horror. Tears made their way to my eyes and fear coursed through my veins. I started sobbing and the boy hit me with the butt of his gun.

"Why?" I asked, panicked.

"No crying," he said sternly. The boy who had killed Elias dropped him and ran off to join the others. I could hear screams and gunshots flood the building.

"Why?" I said again.

"Shut up!" my captor screamed. The dread I felt finally overtook me as the boy wrapped his arm around my neck and pushed me in front of him. He led me along the halls, forcing me to be his shield as we wandered past the main entrance. I could see cop cars and a news team already stationed. Teachers and students alike were trying their hardest to funnel their way through the doors, shouting in terror and in fear of being killed.

"Quit lookin'," the boy said as he dragged me along, tearing my eyes away from the scene.

"You white bitches are all the same. Greedy, angry, competitive. Always taking away from the black man," the boy whispered angrily into my ear. We made it to the stairs to the cafeteria and he let go. He pointed the gun at me.

"Go," he said, gesturing to the stairs. Conflicted, I took one step, but came back up. He approached me and slapped me across the face. I felt the throb seep down right to the bone.

"Go!" he shouted. I held back tears as I went down the stairs. I looked behind me to see if he was still there. He was, a gun pointed right at my head. I went ahead into the cafeteria and then the boy locked all the doors. Coming back to me, the boy snagged an aluminum folding chair from the corner of the cafeteria. He unfolded it and looked at me.

"Sit down." Scared, I did what I was told. He grabbed the huge bag from his shoulder and took out a pair of handcuffs. He grabbed my arms and put them on the back rail of the chair. He snapped my hands into the cuffs and then went back to his bag. He dragged a cafeteria table a few feet away from me and set up a laptop, a camera, and a tripod. He plugged everything in and turned everything on.

He turned on the camera and brought up a window. There was a video feed on of a young man with sunken, sad eyes. He frowned at me, staring intently. I questioned in my mind who he was until I saw an "FBI" vest on him. I could make out that he was on a plane and several other people were standing near him, watching me.

My captor gestured toward the camera.

"Go ahead," he said. I cleared my throat and tried to fill my throat with words.

"Hello," I said, my voice breaking. I felt his hand hit my face, hotter than before. I gasped and sniffled.

"No crying!" he yelled.

"What's your name?" the man on the video feed asked. I looked at my captor sickly, hating the fact that I needed permission to speak.

"Shelly," I said weakly. "Shelly Karlson."

"Are you all right?" he asked. I held back my tears as I shook my head. The boy's hand hit me again, stinging. I watched the man on the screen flinch as I was hit.

"Shelly, Shelly, it's all right. I've been where you are before. I'm from the FBI. He cannot break you. Do not let him break you. You're a very brave girl and-"

"Shut the fuck up!" the boy screamed at the camera.

"Why?"

"Just shut it!"

"What about if I call her intelligent? Does that-"

"Stop it!" the boy shouted. He slapped me again. I grunted and the man on the screen flinched again.

"Do you want to hurt a little, white girl? Do you want to kill her?" the boy said to the man.

"Of course not. And you don't have to. You don't have to do any of this. Why keep hurting her?" the man asked.

"Kiwane," the boy answered gravely. I knew what he had meant by Kiwane. I knew that Kiwane was an African American boy who was wrongfully shot by a white cop. Many people protested the shooting and tried to convict the officer of a hate crime. It never went through the court system.

"Is this revenge for what that officer did to Kiwane?" I asked.

"Who's Kiwane?" the man asked.

"You're the Feds. Figure it out," the boy growled. The boy shut out of the video feed on the computer.

"Don't get too comfortable," he said, an evil smile gracing his face. "They can still see us." My heart beat rose as the boy grabbed another aluminum chair and brought it towards me. He unfolded it and sat right in front of me.

"So," he said, "tell me. Why have your people pushed us to the back of the line? The bottom of the food chain?" Then I realized this boy was putting on a show.

"I-I didn't do anything," I muttered.

"Liar!" he shouted as he stood abruptly from his chair and threw it across the room. I slunk further into my chair, trying to hide. "Quit lying, you white whore!"

"I swear. I didn't do anything!" I tried to shout, but my breaking voice tore the words into sobs. Tears stained my cheeks and the boy slapped me again.

"I said no crying!" he shouted, his face level with mine. I struggled against the chair and stood up as I did. The boy pushed me back down again and I hit the chair hard. He went back to his bag and brought out thin, white rope. He got down on his knees in front of me and tightly tied my legs to the chair. I tried moving them, but they were stuck. He smiled with satisfaction as he got up.

"I hadn't expected you'd be so easy to catch. I mean, I _was_ on the search for a white bitch, but there you were letting us in," he said, pacing, a smile on his face

"By letting us in, you have killed many of your classmates. How does that make you feel?"

"I didn't do anything," I said once more. The boy grabbed a fistful of my hair and bent my head back. He stared directly into my eyes.

"You are all guilty," he said. He threw my head to the side and walked angrily towards the cafeteria door and unlocked it. He was just about to leave when he peeked back in.

"Wait till you see the news cast on how you killed all your classmates. It's going to be great," he smirked. Then he exited and locked the door again. Tears spilled from my eyes down to my cheeks and onto my shirt.

"Shelly?" I heard someone say. I looked around and saw that the video feed from earlier had popped back up. The man with sweet, sad eyes was looking at me. I turned away from him, still crying.

"It's all right. It's going to be okay," he said, his voice soothing me.

"I don't want to die," I squeaked in between my sobs. He nodded, as if he completely understood me.

"I will make sure you don't die. You are going to come out of this alive, Shelly. I promise," the man said. "My name is Spencer Reid and I'm going to help you. I won't leave until he comes back. I don't want to lose communication with you."

"Okay," I sniffled, silencing my cries.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"18," I said, wiping my face on my shirt.

"An adult now? Wow. How is it?" I realized he was trying to make small talk to keep my mind busy.

"Fine. Have you seen the news?" I asked with curiosity, still sniffling from my tears.

"Yes. They're asking for information from us, but we won't give it to them. We think that's what the unsub wants," Spencer answered.

"Unsub?" I asked.

"Unknown subject. The boy." I nodded. I sat there for a few moments, silent, trying to muster up the courage to ask a question. I finally found the words.

"Does my mom know?" I asked. He bit his lip.

"Yes. She's making a statement as we speak." I gulped, trying to shove my tears as far as I could.

"Can… can I see?" I asked.

"I don't think that'd be a good idea," Spencer answered truthfully. I nodded.

"It's probably for the best," I agreed. I struggled against the cuffs, returning to my situation.

"I don't like this," I said, making noise with my cuffs. They were cutting into my hands painfully, as were the ropes.

"I know. It's one of the worst feelings in the world. But, it's going to be okay."

"I can't do this," I gasped, flooded with panic once more. I could feel the tears rising to my face and soon they were spilling again. "I'm going to die, aren't I? Oh God, I'm going to die." I looked away from Spencer, ashamed.

"Listen and look at me," Spencer said assertively. I turned to him, trying to silence my sobs. He looked me strongly in the face. "You are not going to die. You will live. All right? _You. Will. Live._"

Reluctantly, I nodded. He sighed and relaxed in his chair.

"Good. You have to stay positive and don't lose hope. Even if you display fear on the outside, you have to being hopeful on the inside. If it's okay with you, I have a friend here who would like to talk to you."

I nodded, wiping the tears onto my shirt. Spencer pushed himself to the left slightly and another man appeared beside Spencer. He was middle-aged and had a half-balding head. His face had hard features, but his gaze was soft and thoughtful.

"Hello Shelly. I need some information from you. Is that okay?" the man asked.

"Yes."

"All right. My name is Jason Gideon and I work at the B.A.U with Spencer. I just have a few questions." I nodded.

"Okay. Has this boy said anything to you that could help us out? Anything suspicious or anything odd?" Jason asked.

"I know that he's mentioned my race. He's called me a 'white whore'. Do you think he's doing this because I'm white?"

"That might be the case. We're not really sure yet. But we have looked up Kiwane's case. You've lived in the area your whole life, so maybe you can tell us more about the story."

"It's basically what the papers said. There was a shooting, the cop never went to trial, many African Americans were angry about it. I know our school had been on a soft lockdown for the past few weeks, but nobody thought anything of it."

"Soft lockdown?" Gideon asked questioningly.

"Yeah. People have to buzz in to get into the building. There are side doors, but you're not supposed to let anyone in. God, I feel so stupid," I said, wiping my face onto my shirt.

"It's okay. None of this is your fault."

"I want to believe that."

"Shelly, none of this is your fault," Spencer said in his sternest voice. I sighed and nodded.

"Is there anything else you can tell us?" Gideon questioned.

"He's rough, unkind. He has a gun."

"Anything about his behavior?"

"I think he's putting on a show," I said solemnly, hanging my head for a moment.

"We thought so too. Those are pretty good profiling skills," Gideon said to me. I managed a weak smile.

"Statistically, more unsubs tend to keep their victims private until a press release, but this one is intent on making it public. He wants to get his message across. Garcia said that the feed is streaming to a website," Spencer said.

"With access to show the world, he can do anything he wants with this," Gideon stated. I watched them talk to each other, putting the pieces together.

"This isn't a hate crime, Reid. This is a game. One he plans on winning," Gideon said, realizing what was going on. He left his seat and fled to the front of the plane.

"Spencer?" I asked warily. Just then, I heard the lock click on the door.

"Go! Go!" I said. "He's coming!"

"Wait! Do you know anybody else he's killed?" Spencer asked.

"Elias. Elias Mitchell." Spencer nodded and the feed shut off just as the boy came through the door, slipping through carefully. He locked the door again. He turned around, his teeth yellow smiling at me; hard and gritted.

He approached me and whipped back his right hand. I prepared for the impact on my right cheek and closed my eyes. I heard a chuckle, and then his left hand hit my left cheek hit I hadn't embraced for impact. Red, hot stinging surged through my cheek. Then he punched me in the stomach, causing me to jerk forward. Blood splattered from my mouth and dribbled lazily down my chin.

"Please, stop," I groaned weakly. But several blows still came, and more blood made its way to my mouth. I even managed to cough it up on the boy. About six blows to the stomach, chest, and sides and I was throbbing. I sat there, in shock. My mind and body were tired, willing to give up.

_"You have to stay positive and don't lose hope."_ It was Spencer's words running through my head, reminding me that I had to get out alive. I had to make it.

The boy looked at me as I was struggling to draw in breaths. He just stared at me, marveling in my excellent horror. He brought his thumb to the corner of my mouth and wiped off some blood. He bent down right into my face and put his thumb in his mouth.

"Yum," he whispered. Then he turned around fleetingly. He left the room again and I hung my head low, ashamed and helpless.

"Shelly?" I heard that familiar, warm voice say. It made tears well up to my eyes and pour over my cheeks, mixing with my blood. I gasped in between my long sobs.

"It's all right," Spencer soothed. "It's all going to be all right. I know how you feel."

"How?" I asked, sobbing my hardest.

"I was in your seat once. I've been in those handcuffs; in that chair. I just want you to know you're not alone." My sobs softly dissipated as I thought about getting out of the room. Spencer's words lingered in my mind.

"Thank you," I whispered weakly.

"You're welcome." I let a small smile escape my lips as a sign of gratitude. Spencer smiled lightly back. Then we began to talk about many things. He tried to keep my mind off the situation at hand. Thought I had stopped to ask questions every now and then.

"Why haven't the police stepped in?" I asked after we were done talking about the trivial facts of Soviet Russia.

"We're still working a profile. Plus, there are still some teachers and students locked in the building and we don't want to risk any of them dying as well," Spencer answered. I nodded and sighed and we began talking again. He managed to lift my mind from the events unfolding before my eyes. I even managed to laugh a few times even though each laugh was followed by a piercing pain.

"I think this is the longest conversation I've ever had with anyone in forever," Spencer chuckled.

"Me too," I admitted, giggling, the blood on my face wrinkling and flaking. A moment of complete silence followed, dragging me back into reality.

"Spencer?"

"Yes?"

"Am I going to live? Don't sugar coat it. Give me statistics."

"Shelly, you are going to live." I sighed, struggling against the rope and handcuffs again.

"I'm sorry," Spencer whispered sadly.

"It's... okay. It's not your fault," I said, still unsettled by the whole situation.

"I know. It's just… I've been in those restraints. I've been in that chair. I know that fear."

"It sucks."

"I know." I sighed and looked at his eyes. They were like mine: they had dark circles around them and they were sunken. Spencer smiled slightly at me again to reassure me. I smiled back slightly.

"Any chance of me getting out of here soon?" I asked.

"When we land, we're going straight to the crime scene. Gideon's been on the phone with the Unsub twice, but can't get through to him."

"How is the situation going?"

"A lot of the Unsub's accomplices have come forward and have come out of the school, but there are still a few in there. The accomplices won't say anything, but we think that they Unsub has changed motives."

"What do you mean?"

"It means the purpose is no longer for Kiwane. Or never was." I paused for a moment; thinking.

"What is his motive then?"

"I don't think you-"

"Please," I pleaded.

"We think he's doing it for sexual gratification. He's a sexual sadist."

I sighed and closed my eyes for a minute, sinking it all in. "So, he's beating me for his own pleasure."

"Yes. And it's only a matter of time before he…" Spencer trailed off, wincing at the unsaid word.

"Rapes? It's only a matter of time before he rapes me?" I asked. Spencer nodded and I tried to hold back my tears once more, but they came flooding out of my eyes.

"Spencer, please get me out of here," I gulped, sucking in a huge breath of air.

"We'll be there soon. I promise. Just hold on."

"Okay," I whispered, letting silent tears roll down my face. I heard the lock click and I looked over at the door.

"He's coming," I whispered harshly. Spencer nodded and the video feed went dead. The boy walked in again, looking more agitated and frustrated than ever.

"Fuck!" he shouted. He kicked a metal garbage can roughly and it went flying across the cafeteria floor. I rumbled to a stop on a nearby wall. I jumped at the startling noise. The boy walked over to me and took my face in his hand. He lowered his face in to mine.

"You fucking white people. All the same. You think you're so fucking smart and prestigious." He threw my face to the side violently.

"We don't all think like that," I said. The boy kicked over my chair so that I was on my back. My hands, being behind me, were crushed under my weight. I screamed as I hit the pavement. A rush of hot pain flooded my fingers, surging through my hands.

"You're a liar. A filthy, white liar. You sicken me," he said, watching me writhing in pain. I grunted as I tried to move over to my side to escape the crushing ache.

"How do your hands feel?" he asked playfully.

"Please, please, please," I whimpered. He brought my chair up to his level again and I found it difficult to move my fingers.

"Why?" I sobbed.

"You're a whore."

"You're wrong!" I shouted, anguish escaping from me. I knew that he would see this as an ample opportunity to "punish" me again. He slapped my face and pushed over my chair once more. My fingers hurt worse than before. I screamed at the top of my lungs, begging for relief. My body started shaking with pain. He got in my face and smiled at me.

"Say it," he said, spraying spit on me.

"I'm a whore!" I shouted, satisfying his need. He brought my chair back up and the tears continued to pour out of my eyes.

"Say you like it."

"I like it," I whispered, defeated. I hung my head low and didn't dare look up. He patted my cheek and went up to the camera.

"You heard it for yourselves," he said matter-of-factly. Tears still streaked my cheeks as the boy left the room again. I heard the locks click and then Spencer's face popped back up. I looked up briefly to see his comforting face. Tears were streaked across his cheeks too. His mouth was partially agape as he looked at me.

"Please," I whispered, begging to Spencer. More tears formed in his eyes as he spoke to me.

"We'll be there soon. Very soon." Spencer's voice was breaking. We sat there in silence. My spirit felt like it was broken. I was ready to give up. I would have welcomed death.

"We've just landed and we'll be there in five minutes," Spencer said, finally breaking the heart-breaking silence. "It's almost over, Shelly. Gideon agrees that this can't go on any longer. As soon as we get there, we're coming in."

"Okay," I said solemnly. On the whole car ride there, I watched Spencer. His face was solemn and determined. He looked stronger than ever as I saw him pull up to the school. Just then the locks clicked and the boy came storming in.

"Spencer!" I said.

"What are you doing?" he asked. The boy stormed over to the computer and Spencer peered back on the screen, the school visibly behind him.

"You've been talking with the Feds?" the boy asked, shocked and enraged. I cowered and Spencer shut the laptop.

"No, no!" I tried to lie, screaming as loud as I could, hoping Spencer would hear me to ensure he knew where I was.

"You're a slutty, lying bitch, aren't you?" the boy asked, grabbing a fist full of my hair and bending my head back to look into his eyes. I shook my head and he put his hands around my neck. I gagged, trying to gasp for breaths that were just out of my reach.

"I can't believe you've been talking with the fucking Feds this whole time," he said, pressing down harder and harder on my neck. I shook my head, but he only grasped harder. The boy laughed at me as I struggled for breaths.

"Don't lie to me." My vision was fading quickly and all the sounds around me were beginning to sound muffled. Every sense was dulling and my heart rate was slowing down.

Just before everything went dark, I saw Spencer and Gideon burst through the doors and the boy doubled over.

Death is a lot colder than you think. There was nothing there as I sat in waiting for my savior. Just a cold darkness that consumed every sense. But when my eyes finally decided to open up again, I was lying face down on the cafeteria floor and Spencer's mouth was on mine and his hands were pumping my heart.

"You do not get to die!" he shouted, intensity rising in his voice. He put his lips on my mouth again and I opened my eyes all the way. Spencer took his lips off of mine and I rolled my head to the side and coughed loudly. My cuffs were already undone and I looked up at Spencer. He undid my ropes and dragged me into a hug.

"Thank you," I said hoarsely.

"You're welcome," Spencer said. He pulled me away and smiled at me. I smiled back. I saw a struggle out of the corner of my eye and Gideon was putting up a fight with the boy.

"You shot me!" the boy shouted.

"You tried to kill an innocent girl."

"Oh, all of you whiteys deserve it. Especially her," the boy pointed at me. Gideon grabbed his arms and handcuffed them.

"Walk," he commanded.

"I'm not done with you," the boy shouted. "I'll slit your wrists one day. I'll rape you. I'll fucking kill you!" the boy shouted as Gideon hauled him off down the hallway and up the stairs. I hugged Spencer again.

"Don't worry. He can't hurt you," he soothed. I nodded, holding on tighter. Spencer picked me up and carried me down the hallway. All the while, I hugged him, holding on for dear life. We walked out the front doors and there were photographers and media surrounding us. Spencer carried me over to a stretcher by an ambulance. My mother came over and kissed me and hugged me as the EMTs strapped me down.

"Oh darling," she cried, kissing my face. I started feeling woozy as the EMTS loaded me onto the ambulance.

"If you can meet us at Carle Hospital, Mrs. Karlson, please," Spencer said as he climbed aboard the ambulance with me.

"All right," I heard my mom say. An oxygen mask was put on my face and then the doors of the ambulance closed. Spencer came right next to me.

"They'll want to check for nerve damage of the hands, internal bleeding, vocal cord damage, brain damage, and broken bones in the hands, wrist, arms, and face," Spencer ordered.

"You were right," I hoarsely whispered.

"About what?" he asked, touching my face gingerly.

"I did make it out of there alive," I managed to say, tears trickling down the side of my eye and onto the stretcher. Spencer wiped them away.

"No more crying," he said, softly smiling. I tried to nod, but my head was strapped down.

"Okay," I said, feeling my breaths becoming more labored. It came on fast and as it did, I tried to grab for Spencer's arm. The monitor I was hooked up to started beeping.

"No, no, no!" he said, grabbing his hair in frustration. The EMT came next to me and inserted a needle into my arm. Spencer looked at me with frightened eyes as I was convulsing. My vision was starting to fade and nothing seemed real for a moment.

"I'll be here," Spencer said, but it seemed distant; surreal.


	2. Heaven Sent

I woke up slowly. Starting first with consciousness and not long after came pain. It was an ache that lingered up and down my body. My head bobbed from side to side as I tried to shake myself awake faster. A headache made its way to my brain and I grimaced at it.

"It's a miracle she's alive." The voice came from my right. I moved my head to the right to see a man in a white lab coat, my mother, and Spencer through a window. My heart suddenly fluttered upon seeing him. He comforted me instantly.

My mother pulled out a Kleenex and wiped away tears. Spencer lingered for a moment and placed his hand on my mother's shoulder. She thanked him for the small gesture.

"I'll be in soon. I have to make a few phone calls," she said. I knew she would call my brother and grandmother to tell them I was safe. Spencer turned to the doctor and shook his hand. The doctor turned and walked down the hall and Spencer came into my room. He looked at me softly and then smiled.

"Hey," he greeted. He walked past my bed and pulled up a chair to my left.

"Hey," I answered back weakly. "What happened?" He sat down and cleared his throat, looking very professional.

"Your heart went into shock and you had some internal bleeding. You had a few damaged spots in your gums that should heal up soon, but the doctor said it was a miracle that your jaw isn't broken."

"And it's a miracle I'm alive, right?"

"You weren't supposed to hear that," Spencer scolded.

"I know, I know. How's my mom?"

"She's fine. Worried, but fine." I nodded.

"Tell me about the case. Who was the boy?"

"Darrell Brown. A transfer from a New Orleans school, but didn't go to Central. He went to Harlem-Dale. He started a rally of boys to raid the school and kill the caucasian people in it. But, it was just a distraction from what he was really doing. He was doing it all to find a victim to…" Spencer's voice trailed off.

"Is he…?"

"No, the gunshot didn't kill him."

"Oh," I said.

"You sound disappointed. It's better for him to behind bars than dead. This was he'll suffer for his whole life." I sighed and mustered up the courage to ask the question I had been wanting to ask since I had woken up.

"He would have killed me, wouldn't have he?" I asked. Spencer sighed and touched my hand. He looked me straight in the eyes.

"I don't think that in your state we should…"

"I'm fine, Spencer. I'm awake and conscious. I have to know," I begged. Spencer sighed and took his eyes off me.

"Yes. He would have. If he wouldn't have strangled you, he would have…"

"You have to say it or it won't be real."

"He would have raped you and killed you."

"Thank you. I needed closure. I needed to know what he would have done to me."

"Why?"

"So I can thank you for how you saved my life." Spencer's eyes met mine again and I smiled at him. He smiled back. There was a long silence as we let everything sink in. Spencer's hand still rested on mine and the warmth protruding from it made me feel ten times better than I actually was. Uneasiness suddenly settled over me; a question I wanted to ask.

"I have another question," I said, my voice cracking from the breaking silence. Spencer nodded.

"What was their name?" Spencer immediately knew what I was asking. He sighed and closed his eyes, wincing.

"I'm- - I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked, it's all-"

"No, no. I'm just… trying to think. I've… I've buried it. That's all," Spencer said. He looked up at me again.

"Tobias Hankel. He… took on three different personalities. Him, his father, and the Archangel Raphael. Tobias tried to help me while his father beat me. But the only way he knew how to deal with pain was by using dilaudid. So that's what he used on me."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

"No, no. It's okay. You have a right to be curious. It's nice to have someone that has gone through some similar situations as you," Spencer reassured. I nodded and Spencer stood up, leaving my hand by itself; empty and alone.

"Are you leaving?" I asked.

"I'll be back tomorrow to say goodbye. We still have some ends to tie up here," he said, straightening out his shirt. "You need some time with your mom and some time to rest."

"Yeah, you're right," I sighed.

"Of course I am," he said jokingly. I chuckled and he reached for a stray hair on my face. He pushed it aside and smiled at me. He was turning away and I grabbed his hand softly. He looked at me endearingly.

"Thank you," I whispered. Spencer smiled and squeezed my hand. Gideon was standing in the doorway, smiling at me as Spencer approached him. Spencer waved goodbye and turned away. My mind began swimming with thoughts about everything that had happened.

At one point, I felt like crying. But Spencer's voice came ringing through my ears:

_"No more crying."_ Then I saw that soft, big smile peek through his lips. My heart burst with bitter-sweet happiness. He would have to leave tomorrow.


	3. For Now

That next afternoon, true to his word, Spencer returned. He gently knocked on the door. I jumped a little, but was relieved when I saw him.

"Hey," I said, smiling to Spencer. He waltzed in, watching me work with the complicated numbers.

"Sudoku?" he asked, intrigued.

"Yeah," I chuckled.

"I hadn't pegged you for a person who did Sudoku. I thought you were more of a cross-word puzzle girl."

"Well, doctor, you are wrong," I said jokingly. I watched a smile take shape on his face. I couldn't help the grin appearing on mine either. He sat down on my left again and bit his lip as he watched me work with the numbers.

"Here, give me that," he said, reaching for my Sudoku book. I handed him the book and the pen and he sped all the way to the back section of the puzzles.

"You know the last page is the 'impossible' page, right?" I asked.

"Yeah, I know." He worked quickly and within a minute, he was done. He handed the book back to me. He smiled at my agape mouth.

"Oh my God, are you a genius?" I asked.

"I have an eidetic memory, I can read 20,000 words a minute, and I have an IQ of 187," he said bluntly. I gave him a stern, confused look. "Yes, I'm a genius." I giggled and he beamed at my laughter.

"How are you feeling today?" he asked.

"Surprisingly better. At least I can sit up today," I said, even surprising myself.

"Good, good," Spencer said. After awhile, our smiles dissipated and more questions popped into my mind.

"How did you get through yours?" I asked, immediately regretting the question. "No, no. You don't have to answer that. I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's okay," Spencer comforted. "If you want to know, I can tell you." I contemplated for a moment before nodding. Spencer folded his hands, put his elbows on his knees, and set his head on his hands.

"Well, I didn't get through it the right way. Even after I was with Tobias, I continued to shoot up with dilaudid. After awhile, I knew what I was doing was wrong. I started going to self-help meetings and everything turned out all right. But don't even turn to drugs. Promise me you won't end up like that."

"I won't. I promise."

"Good."

"Thank you for everything," I said for the umpteenth time.

"You're welcome," Spencer smiled.

"Are you going back soon?" I asked, dreading the expected answer.

"Yeah. I gotta head to the airport in ten minutes."

I nodded, understanding.

"I liked having someone to talk to," I admitted. "I don't usually get that at school."

"Same with me," Spencer admitted too, whispering. I chuckled and so did he. I sat up quickly and dragged him into a hug. He hugged me back, both of us holding on hard. I nuzzled into his neck, never wanting to let go.

"Thank you for letting me save you," Spencer said.

"Thank you for saving me." Spencer let go and started digging around in his tan messenger bag. He pulled out a business card and handed it to me.

"If you ever need anything, just call me. I'm a plane ride away," Spencer assured.

"Thank you," I said, twirling the card between my fingers.

"Bye," he said, smiling and waving to me as he headed to the door.

"Bye." I waved back. His face disappeared from the door and my life was back to what it once was again. I sighed, holding the card. I sat there for a moment before pulling out a black and white notebook from hospital night-stand. I started writing my story of the past three days and when I finished, my hand was numb with pain. I let my heart soar for Spencer. He didn't know it then, but he was my hero.


	4. Five Years Time

*Five Years Later

I walked into the building feeling confident. A bullpen area met my eyes; small desks surrounding each other. Above a set of stairs were larger offices for bigger positions. My heart was beating fast with adrenaline. This was it; my future. The newest addition to the B.A. U.

I walked up the stairs from the bullpen area and into an office that had a name-plate that said: "Aaron Hotchner." There was a man in his late 30's with jet-black hair sitting at a desk. His hardened face and gaze met mine as I stepped through his door. He looked solemn and hectic, but very professional and organized.

"Hello. Shelly Karlson, right?" he asked as he stood.

"Yes sir," I answered back.

"Welcome to the B.A.U," he said, walking around his desk. He shook my hand and I shook back, strong and confident. This had been the day I was waiting for. "I'm Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. Everyone calls me Hotch."

"It's great to be here, Hotch, sir," I said, smiling. He forced a small smile and turned around to his desk. He picked up a stack of books and papers and handed them to me.

"You've already been taught the procedures, but these are just a few more rules and protocols and a few books that might be helpful. Let me show you to your desk." Hotch led me out of the office and down into the bullpen. A woman with black hair and bangs was looking at me, questioningly but with a small smile on her face. We went across the sea of desks before he stopped at one on the edge of the bullpen on the left.

"We meet in that room over there," Hotch said, pointing to a pair of oak doors, "to discuss cases. We're meeting in there in about ten minutes to discuss a new case that has popped up. I'll leave you to get settled in and if you have any questions, just ask me or any team member. I'll introduce you when we meet in the conference room."

"Thank you, sir," I said.

"You're welcome." Hotch walked off and I sighed. I started unpacking my things out of the bag on my shoulder: stapler, manila folders, pencils, pens, and my gun. Tools of the trade. My desk was beginning to look very professional and this made me feel even more positive about my first day as an FBI agent in a field office. I had bought a small apartment in Quantico and filled it with odd, eccentric furniture that clashed with my outfit selection of that day. I was clad in a black pencil-skirt, a black, ruffled blouse, black panty-hose, and black dress pumps. I saw other members walking around and suddenly felt a bit out of place with my choice. Suit jackets and jeans were everywhere, but at least Hotch was dressed up like me. I couldn't help but have my bright red hair back in a professional ponytail either. Anything to impress the superiors.

I hadn't seen Spencer yet and was beginning to wonder where he was. He and I had talked several times a year after my hostage situation. We spent hours on the phone at a time, just talking and talking. Even after he left and I felt like my whole world was dimmer without him and his phone calls always brightened my day a little more.

I had talked to him about my nightmares once; my only friend Elias having a gun stuck to his head and I can't stop anything, those children and teachers screaming in terror, begging for mercy. He had told me to think of all the people who were saved opposed to the ones who died. It helped ease the nightmares thinking of all the lives that had been saved that day.

He told me about his cases and life inside the B.A.U. We never brought up family and most of our past never came up in conversation. He did like to bring up my future though:

"What are you doing with your life?" he had asked on one of our phone calls.

"I don't know. A psychologist of some sort?" I said, no reassurance behind my voice. I could hear Spencer scoff.

"You sound so confident," Spencer sarcastically laughed. I shifted back into reality when I heard a voice from behind me.

"Hi, umm… welcome to the B.A.U. I'm Doctor Spencer Reid," the voice spoke. My heart stopped, realizing what was happening. I slowly turned around and as I did, I could see the apparent shock on Spencer's face.

"Shelly!" he shouted. He swung his arms around my waist and dragged me into a hug. He started laughing and so did I, overjoyed to finally see each other again. I loved the feel of his arms wrapped around me.

"You… you are a terrible person," he said as he let go of me. He was smiling at me, but giving me an accusing look.

"What? Why?" I asked. But I already knew the answer.

"You didn't tell me you got accepted!"

"Well, it's been a few months since we've talked and I was in the academy at the time. And-" Spencer cut me off with another hug.

"I don't care. As long as you're here," Spencer whispered, his breath on my neck. I felt my heart swell tremendously. I heard a cough and Spencer and I jerked away from each other. I looked at the tall, African-American man standing close to me. He was built like a Greek-God and looked at me, skeptically.

"Hi, I'm SSA Derek Morgan," he greeted as he stuck out his hand.

"SSA Shelly Karlson. Nice to meet you," I said back, shaking his hand. Embarrassment flooded over me. I looked over at Spencer and his face was red.

"Welcome to the team. How are you doing?" he asked, intrigued.

"Fine. Why do you ask?"

"You know, just the whole situation that happened five years ago. That was pretty-"

"Derek, can we talk over there?" Spencer asked, pointing to a desk across the room. Uneasiness settled over us. Derek eyed Spencer cautiously and then nodded. They walked over to the secluded desk and my courage had lost some of its zest.

I knew I had feelings for Spencer for a long time, but I didn't need other team members finding out on the day I had just arrived. I watched them whispering angrily at each other, but was unable to hear their rising argument.

*Spencer's Point of View:

"Damn, Reid, you got yourself a girlfriend?" Morgan asked. I laughed nervously, trying to contain myself of the welling worry that was building up in me.

"You like her, don't you?"

"I- - I don't want to talk about it."

"Damsel in distress, huh Reid?"

"Can you just let it go?" I whispered angrily.

"She was a very serious case," Morgan said harshly. His tone had changed within a matter of seconds as soon as he saw how defensive I was. I couldn't help it. I had feelings for Shelly.

"She's not just a case, Morgan. She's a human being," I said protectively. "Remember that."

"How does Hotch feel about a former victim being an SSA?"

"I don't know, Morgan. She passed the Psych. Eval. and has been through FBI Training. It obviously hasn't gotten in the way of her judgment."

"But is she still fit for the job?"

"Why are you questioning her?" My defenses were up high. "Don't be like Gideon when Prentiss joined the team."

"Stop being so protective, Reid. I think you're defending her because you have a thing for her. Is this going to interfere with _your_ job?" Morgan asked, suddenly pointing a finger at me.

"No, no. Morgan, you brought this up."

"Because it might be a problem. It might cloud your judgment."

"I promise, it won't. It'll be fine," I assured.

"What's going on?" Gideon asked, suddenly appearing out of the blue. I looked to Shelly as she was drinking her first cup of B.A.U. coffee. She coughed at the intensity of the coffee and spilled some on her desk. She frantically stood up and ran to the kitchenette area and grabbed some paper towels.

"Isn't that…?," Gideon started to ask.

"Shelly Karlson," Morgan said.

"The girl from the Central case?" Gideon asked. My head was spinning.

"Yes, the girl that Reid-"

"Hey, isn't it time for that conference soon?" I brought up. Gideon checked his watch and then eyed me carefully before walking off to the room where we gathered. Morgan stared at me with a very stern look before walking off down the hall towards Hotch's office. I shook my head, wondering why Morgan couldn't understand that she was the girl that I had been waiting for all my life.

My mother always said that the right kind of girls would always find you.


	5. My Mistakes Were Made For You

*Shelly's Point of View:

I was grateful the coffee hadn't spilled on me and only on my desk. I didn't usually react that way to coffee, but this was super strong and made me cough something awful. After the little fiasco with the coffee, I decided to make my way to the conference room, leaving my half-full cup at my desk to make sure nothing like that happened while in front of the team.

I had seen Gideon approach the quarreling Spencer and Morgan. I was worried about them because I knew they had been fighting about me. I would have to ask Spencer for details later. But as soon as Gideon approached, they dissipated. The thoughts about them fighting followed me even when I entered the conference room. I looked up at the oval table and saw Gideon sitting there. I jumped, frightened.

"Oh sir, you scared me," I sighed, clutching my chest with relief. Gideon smiled graciously and pointed to a chair across from him.

"I'm sorry. Please have a seat," he invited.

"It's not your fault. Oh, and thank you," I said sitting down in the black chair.

"It's nice to see you again," Gideon mentioned. I nodded, a smile on my face. "And you don't have to act so professional in front of me. I just wanted to talk. About Spencer."

"Oh," I said, understanding. "About that sir-"

"Gideon, please."

"About that Gideon-"

"Before you say anything about it, I just wanted to welcome you to the team. And that I fully support whatever you and Reid having going on." This took me by surprise.

"There's not really anything going on," I said.

"He likes you a lot, though. I can tell."

"Really?"

"Yes," Gideon said smiling. "I've been trying to get him on a date for forever. I even got him on a date with our liaison JJ." Gideon's hearty laugh reminded me of a happy father or grandfather and I felt warm around him. "No, but, he really likes you. I'm not going to ask you how you feel about him. That's none of my business. But I know Reid has trouble talking about things like this and I want you to know he's a really good guy."

"Thank you," I nodded. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you think it's a bad idea? Or a good idea that we make that step?"

"Reid was emotionally involved in the case and was scolded for it, but now that you're not a case anymore and a part of the team, there's no reason for him or you to hold back."

"All right. Thank you."

"So, how do you like your job so far?" Gideon asked, taking a sip of the super-strong coffee. I winced inwardly at the thought of it.

"From the fifteen minutes I've been here, I can tell you that it has been eventful," I chuckled. Gideon smiled at this.

"It's a job that takes a lot out of you," Gideon said, stretching his arms behind his head.

"So I've been told."

"Academy rumors?" he asked. Embarrassed, I nodded. Gideon smiled.

"Some of them are true. Just be careful with how much this job takes of you. If you're not too careful, you can lose yourself." The doors opened and the woman with black hair came in with a woman who looked delicate and had doll-like blonde hair. Both were very attractive and sat down at the end of the table. Just then, a very pissed-off looking Spencer and the forever-stern Hotch walked in with Morgan behind them, angry and hard-looking. Spencer took a seat next to me, but didn't say a word.

"Team, this is Agent Shelly Karlson," as soon as Hotch said that, I saw looks shoot from certain members, astonished that a former victim was now an SSA, "She will be joining our team." And then introductions were made. I learned that the dark-haired woman was Emily Prentiss and that the blonde-haired woman was Jennifer Jareau, but everyone called her JJ. _The woman Spencer had gone out on a date with_, I said to myself. Everyone was very sweet and kind.

"Tell us what we've got, JJ," Hotch said, taking his seat next to Gideon. JJ passed out manila folders with photos in them. Spencer handed me mine and I passed them on down to Morgan who snatched them from my hand. I saw Spencer shoot Morgan a glare and then open his folder. I opened mine as well.

"There have been a series of kidnaps and murders in New Orleans involving the rapes of five between the ages of 20 and thirty. I just got a call an hour ago saying that another woman had been abducted about 30 hours ago. The unsub never keeps his victims for more than 48 hours and at each seen different letters have been left," JJ said, flipping through photographs of dead women until the bloody letters appeared on the screen.

"The letters 'N, R, A, T, and L' have been left."

"He's definitely trying to tell us something," Gideon added.

"It could be an acronym of sorts, but it's most likely our unsub is trying to tell us something," Spencer said.

"What was the other woman's name?" Morgan asked. JJ flipped through the slides until a photo of Tracy Lewis came up.

"She is a 26 year old woman. She is a teacher at Edison High School,"

"What about the other women? What did they do?" I asked.

"They were also high school teachers."

"So our unsub is killing high school teachers," Hotch concluded.

"That isn't accidental, there's something there," Prentiss added.

"Pack up team. Get your go bags and meet at the cars in ten minutes," Hotch stated, grabbing his folder. I grabbed mine and stood up. Spencer had already left and I was confused to why he decided not to talk to me.

I exited the building and retrieved my go-bag from the trunk of my car. I couldn't help but think about today's events already. So much drama had already ensued and things weren't looking any better. I grabbed my small duffel bag from my trunk and the shut the lid. I walked back into the building and as soon as I walked by the men's bathroom, an arm shot out and pulled me in. I stumbled over my heels onto the linoleum tile.

Spencer had dragged me and was just standing there, still taller than me although I was wearing pumps. His face looked concerned.

"Why did you come here?" he asked, quickly and rudely.

"I thought you wanted me here," I said, hurt.

"I do, but why did you come _here_?"

"Spencer, I told you I wanted to be a psychologist. And when I was in college, I saw opportunity in joining the FBI."

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter," I said, turning away from him. My gears were starting to grind at his thoughtlessness and his questions. I reached for the bathroom door handle, but Spencer grabbed my shoulder.

"Yes it does." I sighed and turned around to face him again. His sad stare peered down at me, begging for an answer.

"I didn't want you to worry. That's why."

"I do worry. I had no idea you were training and had no idea you wanted to be in the field. It's dangerous."

"I know it is. You would've advised against it. Even stopped me before I joined," I said. Spencer bit his lip, a little hurt at my words. "You know you would have."

"I just… I don't want you to get hurt. Can't you understand that? Can't you?" Spencer said, frantic worry in his voice. I stared at him, my dark eyes matching his. For a few moments, we both stood there in complete silence, just looking at each other. Worry was emanating from him and I could feel it. Spencer then lowered his face into mine. It was soft at first; careful and whimsical. Then I started moving with him, our lips working together. I wrapped my arms around his neck lazily as he put his arms around my waist. He moaned as we passionately kissed in the bathroom of an FBI field office.

It was deep. Sinking and drowning; spiraling down and down. I lost myself in him for a few minutes. But then finally, I pulled away. He looked at me, a little disappointed that the moment had stopped. I smiled a little and let myself make my way back to his lips, passionate and strong. After a minute or so, we both stopped. He hugged me.

"Amazing," I whispered into his ear, nuzzling into his neck like I had all those years ago. Spencer sighed.

"Morgan doesn't think it's right," Spencer whispered back.

"Gideon encourages it."

"How does he know?"

"He heard you and Morgan talking. Plus he knows you better than you think," I said. I could feel Spencer's laugh.

"Morgan doesn't get it."

"We have to go," I said, taking a peek at my watch.

"Let's not," Spencer whispered, holding onto me tighter.

"Come on," I said, letting go of his body reluctantly. Spencer sighed. He walked to the bathroom door and looked out, shifting his head from side to side.

"Coast is clear," he said. I walked to the door and slipped out. Spencer quickly followed. We walked outside to a few dark SUVs. Prentiss shoved her luggage in the back and I quickly followed. Spencer put his in the car as well and we piled in.

As we rode to the airstrip, I couldn't help but think _"Is this the right job choice for me?"_


	6. Something Changed

*Spencer's Point of View

I had always told myself that love was just endorphins. Dopamine and norepinephrine as stimulants and phenylethylamine as the initial feeling of falling in love. Science could prove it all, but I knew that love went beyond science; even overlooked it as a whole. Love was an emotion that even I couldn't avoid. I hadn't a big ego, but knew that I was smarter than most and made it obvious.

We had just debriefed on the plane and she sat all the way across the plane, away from me. I stole glances at her. I was head-over-heels in love with a girl I had only met a few times. It seemed so wrong, but yet so right. I was six years older; a thirty year old. She was just twenty-four.

What attracted me to her? Her innocence? Her ability to surprise me? I tended to be less awkward around her and it always felt like she understood who I really was. She brought out the best in me. It took me a few moments to realize that I was staring straight at her. I adverted my eyes. She blushed and picked up a book:

"_Cosmos"_ by Carl Sagan.

My breath caught. "She reads classics", my mind rang out. I shook my head.

"Get a hold of yourself," I whispered. Gideon walked over and sat in the seat directly across from me. He stared at me until I pulled out my chess board. He helped me set it up and we started our game.

"You seem hesitant, Reid. Anything you'd like to talk about?" Gideon asked.

"So, you think it's a good idea?"

"Reid," Gideon said, making his second move, "you deserve somebody. And so does she. You seem to really take a liking to each other."

"But, I don't know why we're so attuned to each other."

"Part of it is just because, and part of it is the past."

"What do you mean?"

"You know the answer."

"Why can't you just tell me?"

"Look into your past," Gideon encouraged. "There you'll find your answer, Mr. IQ of 187," Gideon smiled. I chuckled and made my move. I would ponder on it.

*Shelly's Point of View

I thought coming here was a good idea, but Spencer hadn't talked to me for the whole plane ride. Even after he had finished his chess game with Gideon (Gideon won), he stayed in his seat the rest of the trip.

When the plane landed, we piled into two different SUVs and headed down to the French Quarter Precinct on Royale Street. Spencer came up to me as we got out of the car.

"Amazing, huh?" he asked, smiling.

"What?"

"After Katrina, the French Quarter was the only part of New Orleans that was hardly touched." We walked through the doors, the cool air hitting us hard.

"I thought you weren't talking to me," I whispered.

"What? Why would you think that?"

"You wouldn't talk to me on the plane."

"I was… conflicted. But I'm okay now." I nodded as we approached a half-bald man with a horror-filled grimace on his face, like he had seen too much in his line of duty. Hotch shook his hand.

"Detective Robert Swanson, this is SSA Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Jason Gideon, Spencer Reid, and Shelly Karlson. And this is our media liaison Jennifer Jereau."

"Thanks for coming down," he greeted, smiling half-heartedly.

"Is there anything else about this case you can tell us?" Hotch asked.

"Not what you already know."

"Is there someplace we can set up?" JJ asked.

"Sure," Swanson said, pointing to a back room. "right in there." We all shuffled to the back room and brought out our case files, pictures, and information. Spencer wrote them all on the white board that had been freshly wiped clean.

"All right, Prentiss, Gideon, and I will examine the bodies. Morgan, Reid, and Shelly will go examine the crime scenes. And JJ, can you please try to keep information from the media as long as possible?" Hotch asked.

"Can do," JJ answered.

"All right." Hotch, Gideon, and Prentiss left the room first, walking fast.

"Which victim?" Morgan asked.

"I guess the first one. Karin Baker," Reid suggested.

"Why have the bodies been removed from the dumpsite?" Reid asked.

"It took us forever to get help down here. Leaving a body to rot in the bayou would have been a bad idea. There are some folks who still believe that New Orleans is all industrialized. Trust me, there are still more places like this one," Swanson said, looking around at the swampy area. He was right. The humid heat and the swamp would have made the bodies give away more rapidly.

"It's odd though. The other dumpsites are in the French Quarter," Morgan added.

"It's more than likely this is to throw off the search," I said.

"None the less," Morgan said, "it should still be examined like the other scenes."

"Oh, I wasn't implying-"

"Karlson," Morgan scolded. Anger swelled up inside me, burning hot, but I bit my tongue. Morgan turned back around and Reid shot me a sympathetic look. I walked forward with Reid, Swanson, and Morgan to a slimy pile of leaves.

"She was buried underneath these," Swanson said, pointing at the leaves.

"Unorganized, messy," I said.

"Yet in complete control of what he wants us to see," Spencer said, messing with the leaves with his gloved hands.

"You think he wanted us to find her so easily?" Swanson asked.

"It's a possibility. We know his message wants to be heard," Spencer said, glancing at the bright, red "L" above the dumpsite on a tree.

"The people around here have been suspecting it's a hate crime against the school district and teachers of something," Swanson said.

"I don't know. We'll have to look further into the scene," Morgan said, walking into the tickertape.

"Why would I put a body in a place it would rot fast if I wanted to make a statement and I wanted it to be found?"

"To desecrate the bodies?" I suggested.

"Yes, but-" Just then, Morgan's phone rang.

"Hotch? Yes." Then there was a long pause. "Okay." Then Morgan shut his phone and rubbed his eyes. He looked up, his eyes blank.

"They just found the body of Tracy Lewis. She had slashes up and down her body. The coroner said she was alive when it happened. She was found bound and gagged like the others." I felt a shiver crawl up my spine, but I shook it off.

"They also found the letter 'E' right above her body."

"Where was she left?" Reid asked.

"Behind the police station."


	7. Do You Remember The First Time?

"How are Gideon, Hotch, and Prentiss doing with the bodies?" Reid asked.

"Won't know more until they arrive," Morgan said, pulling up to the police station. We hopped out of the car and Swanson walked up to the tickertape. He stared at it for a second before breaking.

"Damn it!" he shouted. It was getting dark soon and it would be time to call it a day for a few of us while the others stayed at the station. I looked up at the scene and there it was: the 'E' written in blood.

"I hate being behind this guy," Swanson said.

"It's only a matter of time before he slips up," I said. Just then, another dark SUV rolled in and Hotch, Prentiss, and Gideon stepped out.

"We've got a witness. Says he saw a green van leaving the police station. She said it was to a black male; approximately 6'2" and wearing a plain black ball-cap," Hotch said.

"Classic serial killer," Prentiss added.

"Tell JJ to prepare the media for a statement," Gideon said to Morgan.

"Reid, get the precinct together. We've got a profile to give. Gideon and Prentiss, check out the rest of the crime scene before our profile," Hotch instructed.

"What would you like me to do, sir?" I asked.

"There's a Marriot hotel a few blocks from here. Get some rest, Karlson." My jaw dropped.

"But, sir, I really could help out here-"

"Trust me," Hotch said. They all walked away and a bitter feeling welled up inside of me. I hate been on the team for less than 24 hours and I felt like I wasn't being taken seriously.

"Trust has to be earned." Those words rung in my ears. I recalled them from long ago. Elias had said them to me. I walked away from the precinct down the road. I thought about going to get a drink first, but instead I waltzed into the hotel and picked up my key and went to my room. There was a full bed in a semi-nice room. My luggage felt heavier than it had before. I finally set it down inside my closet and flopped onto my bed. I tugged the blankets over me. I hadn't realized how tired I was. A soon as my head hit the pillows, I was out like a bulb.

The body of Tracy Lewis was bleeding. Seeping crimson blood. Ribbons of flesh were being peeled off slowly. Tracy was struggling against her restraints, her screaming muffled by her gag. Her face was sweaty and red, straining to be set free.

"Shh, shh, shh," the unsub said, taking the X-acto knife to Tracy again. She screamed louder and louder. I could feel my mouth opening. 

***Spencer's Point of View**

It was one in the morning and I was so tired. I was glad to be going to bed soon. I hadn't seen Shelly for the rest of the day, and I missed her. But we would catch up after the case.

It had been such a long day and I was mulling over what those letters had meant. I had tired at least thousands of combinations, but it was almost impossible without all the letters. I tried running acronyms and other things through my brain, when all of a sudden I heard a scream from Shelly's room; a blood-curdling, horror filled one. Adrenaline rushed through me, coursing through my veins as I ran up to her room. I took out my gun and kicked down the door. I prepared myself for the worst; a possible death.

I flipped the light switch and she was writhing; dreaming. I ran to her bed and grabbed her by the shoulders. She jerked awake and threw her arms around my neck. 

***Shelly's Point of View**

I awoke from my nightmare so suddenly. Spencer had shaken me awake.

"Shelly! Shelly!" he shouted at me. I looked at him, terror still flooding through my veins. Every inch of my skin was crawling.

"Shelly," he whispered as I was panting, the cold sweat above my brow starting to bead and run down my face.

"I'm all right," I reassured him, running my fingers through my red hair.

"Jesus Christ," Spencer said, putting his gun back on his belt. He sat back down on my bed next to me. "You scared me so bad." Spencer put his hand on my face and looked into my eyes.

"Nightmares," I said.

"About what?" Spencer asked, scooting closer, our faces inches from each other.

"Tracy Lewis. Being skinned alive."

"You couldn't help her."

"I know. But I wanted to. Now she's dead."

"We've talked about this."

"I know, but-" Just then, I was cut off by a kiss. Longing surged through me and I felt the prickle of hot heat start at my lips and waver through my body. Just then, Spencer pulled away.

"I don't think we should be doing this on duty," he said.

"You're probably right. It's best to wait," I agreed. We pulled away and sat there, staring off. Suddenly, my eyes slowly moved to my right, staring at Spencer. I noticed he was staring at me too. He stood up abruptly and went to the door. I heard it close and lock. He came back around the corner and gave me a smile. I understood where he was coming from. I felt a naughty smile creep upon my face.

"So," I said, standing up, "are you gonna make me forget all… about… my… nightmare?" I said, playing with his tie. He grabbed me by my hips and pushed me towards him. Our lips aggressively met and my burning desire for him pushed down harder and harder. I wanted him more than ever.

As we kissed, I took off his tie, flinging them to the side. We pulled apart and he took off my shirt. I took off his undershirt and jacket. He kicked off his shoes and grabbed my hand and led me back to my bed. I shook off my skirt and underwear as Spencer took off his pants and underwear. He lowered himself onto me. He gingerly touched my thigh and I moaned. With a menacing smile, his hands traced up and down my body.

"You're such a cruel tease," I whispered. He smiled and kissed me softly, his hands cupping my breasts. Finally, he was in me. Moving slowly, he coursed in and out. Moans escaped from my lips. Spencer made grunting noises every now and then. I decided to move with him and he started to sigh. I let my hands dangle playfully across his back. We moved, intertwined, for a full half-hour before we both came. Whilst coming, we both screamed. We both hit the sheets, swear pouring from all my pores. I looked at Spencer; his hair soaked and matted on his forehead. He looked so sexy like that.

"Mind blowing sex doesn't happen that often, does it?" Spencer asked.

"No,' I chuckled, pecking his lips. "I thought you wanted to keep professional until the case was over?"

"I… umm," Spencer hesitated. I smiled at his stumbling." Shut up," he playfully smiled. I smiled back and lifted my body to peek at the clock. I sighed and let my head hit the pillow again.

"It's almost two in the morning," I groaned.

"I think I should sleep in here tonight," Spencer said. I smiled at him.

"You know, because you're having nightmares and those can be pretty frightening and you need some help with-"

"I love you too," I said, understanding what he was saying. Spencer smiled and pulled the sheets over his pale frame. I turned off the lights and wriggled under the sheets too. I felt his body snuggle against me, his arms wrapping around me. I let him take me; his lips and breath grazing softly over my skin.

"Do you really love me?" I asked.

"More than anything," he answered. My eyes closed, letting his breath overtake me. I drifted off into cloudy dreams of Spencer smiling.


	8. All Eyes On Us

***Spencer's Point of View**

I had left her there in bed and set her alarm for eight in the morning. I wanted to get into the office early. Gideon and Morgan were already at the precinct, looking over the case. They looked up when I walked in.

"You're glowing," Morgan said. "Busy night?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Reid, you never came into our room," Morgan said.

"And Shelly's room was right across from mine," Gideon smiled.

"I… umm," I stumbled.

"You two make a lot of noise. Or so I've heard," Morgan chuckled. I was so flustered. I turned around and walked away. Heat rose to my face. I left the room, but turned around and walked right back in.

"You have no right!" I said, my voice getting squeaky with anguish.

"Relax, Reid. We're happy for you," Morgan said.

"No, he's right," Gideon said, "We didn't mean to tease you about it. We're just having fun."

"Just… just don't bring it up any time soon," I said, annoyed. I needed space from everything. Why couldn't I do this in peace? I know that I wasn't the most attractive or social guy in the world, but I had feelings and needs just the same as everyone else. 

***Shelly's Point of View**

I walked into the precinct, feeling great and confident in manner. Spencer came up to me, a grimace on his face.

"They know," he whispered in my ear was we walked. I stopped in my tracks.

"What?"

"They all know."

"Great," I said sarcastically. "How do they know?"

"They heard us."

"Do they care?"

"They're happy for me. Morgan's still apprehensive. He's worried you're taking advantage of me."

"Morgan doesn't know anything."

"He's just tried to get me with someone for the longest time. And then… someone finds me," Spencer said, stopping to touch my face, "and it makes me so happy."

"It's not wrong to be happy. He should be happy for you."

"Oh, no, I know. He is, but just give him time. He'll come around," Spencer reassured me. He kissed my forehead and we started walking again.

"I missed you this morning," I said.

"I wanted to get a head start," Spencer explained. "Hotch said he's ready to give a full profile. Come on." We walked faster and approached a large room on the other side of the precinct. Officers were waiting to hear from the team. Hotch, Gideon, Morgan, and Prentiss walked in as soon as soon as Spencer and I did. Hotch cracked a small smile at Spencer and I felt heat rise to my face.

"Jesus Christ," I whispered. Spencer grabbed my hand and squeezed it reassuringly. We walked up and Gideon started talking.

"We're looking for a man who is a sick, sexual sadist," he spoke.

"A man in his mid-twenties to mid-thirties," Hotch said.

"How do you know that?" an officer asked.

"Age is difficult to predict, but as the age of the unsub goes up, the age of the victim goes down," Reid said.

"All the victims were in their late 40's," I spoke. "But it's still possible for him to change his M.O."

"Our unsub will be confident and seem arrogant. He may be a sweet-talker, just like Ted Bundy. These women he's killing are smart, but his charisma is what's winning them over," Prentiss added.

"Our unsub's comfort zone revolves around several part of New Orleans. So stay in those areas. We have them mapped out," Morgan said.

"One thing we do know is that he's not finished. And he won't stop until we have his message and catch him," Reid interjected. Hotch nodded.

"All right, Prentiss, Morgan, and I will be here, searching for more clues. Shelby, Reid, and Gideon, you go to the schools and try to talk to the teachers. Try to talk to the families as well. Look for anything. JJ, call Garcia and ask her to find out everything she can about the teachers then make a statement to the media and deliver the profile." We all split up and went our own ways.

We hadn't found much and I could tell the team was getting very agitated. No more killings, kidnappings, or missing persons files had appeared in the past day we had been there. According to the rap sheet, there should have been a new victim. The unsub had waited less than 18 hours each time to kidnap a new victim and had dumped them, at the most, 48 hours after he had found them. I was glad there hadn't been a new victim, but it was odd for him to break pattern.

Gideon reassured me that they had the case handled and told Prentiss, Morgan and I to go rest.

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do?" I asked.

"No, no, go rest. We've got it here. If something develops, we'll call," Gideon said. I nodded and turned away from him, not in the slightest tired. I had been too riled up from all the anticipation of the case. I went to the Pirate's Alley bar, unwinding with a cool strawberry daiquiri. All of a sudden, Spencer came around the corner. I looked up.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. He looked tired as ever, but still he smiled.

"I followed you."

"Ah, well, that's not creepy," I said sarcastically, taking a sip of my drink.

"You were going the opposite direction of the hotel, so I was curious," he admitted.

"I just feel a little unneeded at the moment," I said. Spencer sat down next to me and put his hand on my shoulder.

"Do you feel unneeded now? "he asked, running his hand up and down my arm. I smiled and turned my face towards him. He kissed me softly. I smiled as he pulled away.

"I have to get back to the precinct," Spencer said.

"Ah. Yeah, almost forgot." I took another drink of my daiquiri.

"Don't be out too late. And try to get some sleep. I'll see you in a few hours," he said, kissing my forehead. He walked off down the alley and I took another sip of my drink. It didn't take me long to finish it. As soon as I did, I got up and left the outside bar. I looked at my watch: "9:10 PM" it said, the hands staring at me. I rolled my eyes and made my way down the street.

The hotel was only a few blocks away and I was feeling pretty good. The New Orleans lights shone down on me as early Mardi Gras partiers flooded the streets. I smiled at them, remembering my infinite party days.

I jerked backwards, a hand and smelly rag clamped over my face. I struggled against the forceful arms, but I was no match. In a matter or moments, my whole world went dark.


	9. Cat and Mouse

_Hey guys. Sorry it took so long to update. I've been settling in at college. I'll promise to update this at least once, if not twice a week. Believe it or not, the whole story has already been written, I just have to type it out. I wrote this story a couple years ago in high school. So, enjoy this new extra long installment!_

* * *

><p>*Spencer's Point of View<p>

Shelly was supposed to have been back at the precinct two hours ago. I called her cell phone about a hundred times, but got no answer.

"It's 5 AM. Where is she?" I asked myself, becoming nervous.

"Reid, calm down," Morgan said. "I'll have Garcia check the hotel records to make sure she's safe." Morgan flipped open his cell phone and speed-dialed Garcia.

"Hey, baby girl. I need to you check Shelly's hotel records. Did she… what? No, no, no. Aw, hell. No, thanks baby." Morgan shut his phone and looked at me. He didn't need to tell me, but he did.

"She never checked in, let alone used her key," Morgan said.

"Fuck," I whispered. I was already headed out the door when Morgan ran off to tell Hotch. I hopped into my black SUV and drove as fast as I could to the hotel. I ran straight to her room and kicked open the door. The room had been picked up by housing-keeping, but other than that, it was just her luggage. It sat down on the bed, adrenaline rushing through my veins. Where could she be?

* Shelly's Point of View

Pain. It comes in many forms. This time, it decided to come in the form of a headache. I moaned and tried to move, but something was holding me back. I was sitting in a chair, my hands cuffed behind my back, legs tied to the chair. The room was dank and felt like a basement.

I coughed and then remembered what had happened: daiquiri, walking, struggle. Now I was here in a dark room. Tears came to my eyes.

"How could I be so careless?" I asked myself. All of a sudden, a light switched on and so did a laptop and camera to my left. Tears spilled from my eyes, realizing what was going on.

It was an interpretation of my worst day. This man was going to make me relive the worst moment of my life.

Just then, Garcia's face popped up on the screen. She gasped and looked at me.

"Shelly, honey, are you all right?" Garcia asked. Just then, the man emerged from the shadows. I screamed as he spoke to the camera:

"I want Spencer."

*Spencer's Point of View

Morgan, Prentiss, Gideon, and Hotch came through the door, guns out. I was sitting on the bed, head in my hands. Hotch put his gun away and put his hand on my shoulder.

"We'll find her," Hotch reassured me.

"Maybe she's out and lost track of time," Prentiss suggested innocently. I looked up, running my hands through my hair.

"Two hours?" I asked.

"You never know, Reid," Morgan added.

"No, Reid's right. There's something bigger than that going on here. I know it," Gideon said. I was steaming mad, yet worried out of my mind. My phone rang and I saw the caller I.D.: Shelly. I answered it quickly, my heart racing.

"Where are you?" I said hastily, my temperature rising. All I could hear was breathing and then a yell.

"Who is this?" I asked, rage welling up inside me.

"Garcia, can you get a trace on Shelly's cell phone?" Hotch asked, already on the phone. After a few seconds, Hotch turned to me.

"She can't get a trace. And Reid… there's a website." My fears scaled up to my heart, shattering all boundaries.

"Who are you?" I shouted. I heard a rustling.

"Talk," a gruff voice commanded. I heard a sob and hard breathing. I put it on speaker phone.

"Spencer?" her voice asked, raspy.

"It's okay, it's okay," I said, trying to soothe her.

"I'm so scared," she cried. Then I heard a violent slap, followed by a wail. I covered my hand over my mouth, trying to control my tears.

"I said no crying!" he shouted.

"It's all right, baby. I'm going to get you out of this," I said.

"Tell him," the voice said.

"There – there's a website. Garcia has it. He wants you to watch," she recited.

"Don't go, Shelly. Don't hang up." Then the line went dead. Frustrated, I punched the nearest wall. Morgan grabbed my shoulders.

"I should've never have left her by herself out there. She was vulnerable and I did nothing to protect her," I growled, pulling away from Morgan. I stomped out of the room and started down the hall. Hotch stopped me by jerking my shoulder.

"Reid, you need to calm down. We will find her," Hotch said.

"But will she be alive?" I asked, overwrought with hate.

"You know I can't answer that."

"I'm going back to the precinct. I have to figure this out," I said, pulling away. "I have to watch the website."

* Shelly's Point of View

This felt like a nightmare; one that I had slipped into a million times before. My hands were aching and my eyes were tired. It felt like I had stepped into a movie when the one hanging light above me came on. The spotlight: the scene. I was the main actress.

The man sat across the dank room from me, staring at me. It took all my will power not to cry. I had wanted to sleep, but was too afraid. I didn't want to risk missing anything, anyway.

After the phone call with Spencer, I had felt physically withdrawn and exhausted. This situation was different than from when I was a teenager. I was an adult now, and in the FBI. Not to mention in love. In love with the man who was going to be forced to watch my torture for the second time in his life.

"Can I ask you why?" I whispered.

"Kiwane," he said. I bit my lip, remembering that name.

"Darrell?" I asked. The man looked right into my eyes, his gaze affirmation enough. He got up and slapped me across the face. I gasped in pain and just then my phone rang. Darrell picked it up and Spencer's voice rang through.

*Spencer's Point of View

"All right. I'm here," I spoke gravely. My mind was busy with fear and wrath. The phone line went dead and the computer lit up. She popped up on the screen, her face scared, filled with apprehension.

"Hello Spencer. Long time, no see," he said. I ignored him and focused on Shelly. She was bound the same way she had been all those years ago.

"Why'd you do it, Darrell?" I asked.

"Kiwane, of course." There was that name again. "Go ahead, talk to her." Darrell pointed at Shelly. I looked over at her and she looked at me. Hotch came into the room at this pointed and looked at the screen, his hard features softly changing from rock to sympathetic.

"Hey," she said, her voice cracked and parched.

"I'm going to get you out of this," I said, tears running down my cheeks.

"It seems like you two really love each other," Darrell said mockingly.

"Spencer," she said, her face changing expressions, "see."

"See what?"

"See, see, Spencer, see!" she exclaimed. Darrell slapped her and she held back the urge to scream.

"Be back in an hour. I've got to teach her a lesson," Darrell breathed, his voice deep and menacing. I could make out the faint grin on his face.

"No, no!" I shouted. Then the screen went blank.

"I can try to break into the camera," Garcia said. Gideon walked in and placed his hand on my shoulder. Garcia worked for a few minutes before sighing.

"I can't get anything."

"He's smarter this time around," Gideon muttered.

"Why now of all times?" Hotch asked.

"She told me to see," I whispered, drying the tears that had been running down my face. I knew she was okay for now. But the clock was running out. "She was trying to tell me something."

"See. See," I kept repeating, looking for its hidden meaning.

"Can you see where she is?" Gideon asked Hotch. I blocked them out, their voices becoming nothing but distant mumbles. See. To see. See what?

"See, see," I told myself over and over. "See, see. C? The letter C?" I questioned. "Why would she…" Just then, it clicked.

"She was trying to tell us that this was our unsub!" I cried abruptly. Hotch and Gideon watched as I picked up a piece of paper and pen and wrote out the letters in different combinations until one finally made sense. C-E-N-T-R-A-L.

"Central," I murmured.

"Shelly went to Central High School," Gideon said.

"The teachers were just a ruse, extras in a much bigger plot to throw us off. To bring her down here," Hotch said, gathering his things. He ran out the door.

"Garica, look up everything you can on Darrell Brown," Gideon ordered. Prentiss, Morgan, JJ, and Hotch came back into the room. Garcia, all the way back in Quantico, worked fast.

"He broke out of the Illinois State Federal Prison three weeks ago during a raid, he was originally from New Orleans, and he's twenty-six. That's all I see right now, but I'm still digging," she explained.

"Any family address?" Morgan asked. Garcia typed vigorously and she sighed.

"1213 Royale street."

"Three blocks away from the precinct," I gasped in disbelief as Hotch and the team ran out the door. All but Gideon and I. Gideon popped his head back up.

"Are you going to be all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine."

"We'll talk when we get back. Call if you hear from him again." Gideon ran to join the others. Garcia was still working on the info, so I said goodbye to her. When her screen went away, I let my tears fall again.

"God damn it, Reid. Quit losing it," I said to myself, hitting my head with my hand.


End file.
